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“Liam!”
He turned at his mother’s voice while Taylor froze beside him in front of the pottery kilns. “Hey, Mum.” He crossed and kissed her cheek and wrapped her up in a hug. “Taylor and I were hoping to talk with you guys. She has this great idea for another person who could help us.”
His mother glanced over, and Liam could feel the tension in her muscles. “Oh, Taylor. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”
Taylor started to squirm a little, and Liam gave his mum a warning squeeze.
“I’m trying to stay in fix-it mode to keep me occupied,” Taylor answered crisply. “Can we grab a few minutes, Bets?”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes and nodded in response to his silent plea to keep things professional. “Sure thing. Let’s go corral everybody together.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated around the conference room table with Linc, Donal, Eoghan, Wilt, and Ghislaine.
“I know I’m part of the story right now,” Taylor began when Bets gestured to her to start, “but I also feel guilty for not contributing as the new media director. Even though I know Ghislaine is a powerhouse, I wanted to do something. After Malcolm’s threats this morning, I got to thinking about another way to bring him down. Because he needs to be brought down.”
Linc folded his arms and leaned on the table. “The lawyers have some ideas about how to stop him, but this sounds different.”
Taylor’s mouth rose and fell on a smile. “It is. Linc, you’re friends with the Merriam family, I understand.”
His silver brow winged up. “Friendly, I’d say, yes.”
“Well,” Taylor continued, looking very comfortable at the conference room table and filling him with pride, “J.T. Merriam and I go way back in the art world. We knew each other when he used to live in Rome. I called him today and asked if his uncle is still doing investigative pieces. Arthur Hale, for those of you who don’t know, founded a pretty famous newspaper in the U.S. and has won the biggest journalism prize time and time again.”
“That’s a big fish,” Linc drawled. “I like where this is going.”
She flashed a brilliant smile. “Turns out, he’s down in Kinsale—five hours away—visiting his two Merriam nephews and their families. He’s agreed to come up and investigate Malcolm his way. While he doesn’t run the paper anymore, he still writes the occasional hard-hitting piece.”
“I love this idea,” Ghislaine broke in. “Hard and soft journalism to the rescue.”
“You might also be interested to know Sorcha appeared,” Liam decided to break in, “and made a few observations about how Ireland works. If you’re corrupt, you’re more likely to get in hot water if you’re caught swindling your friends than if you break the law. Taylor thought this journalist might be able to find that kind of information and publish it.”
“And given Arthur’s reputation,” Taylor picked up, touching his arm, “people might be more open to listening. Because to be really honest—I didn’t feel super great seeing Malcolm show up with some Garda officers as an escort today. Which I’m sure was the whole reason he brought them along.”
“On that we agree,” Linc said, tapping the table decisively. “I haven’t met Arthur Hale, but I’ve readThe Western Independent, of course. If he wants to pop up here and look into things, I’d saythank you kindly.Because we’re at the place where it’s all hands on deck. Unfortunately, Malcolm was right about the artist needing planning permission for the mural—unless someone associated with us authorized it.”
Liam’s calm center shuddered before he stilled it. “Linc, about that. Do you still want to go with Sorcha bringing down the system last night?”
They shared a look. “What we say in this room doesn’t go any further,” Linc said, “but after talking to the lawyers, I think we might need a different story.”
Taylor reached for his hand, and he squeezed it gently. “Taylor and I looked up the law as well. It seems keeping the mural will be easier if we say someone gave Veritas permission, doesn’t it?”
His mum fisted her hand on the table. “Before anyone says anything, are we sure saying we granted permission will put an end to this?”
Everyone turned to Linc. The tension in the room was razor sharp. “The mural isn’t for commercial purposes, which is another way they could get us, but the lawyers don’t think anyone can make a case that it’s against the Equal Status Acts in this country.”
“The very idea is ludicrous,” Donal ground out, shaking his head.
Eoghan muttered his agreement under his breath.
“That only leaves defamation, which likely couldn’t be leveled at us, although Malcolm may try. The argument goes like this. We had no way of knowing what image Veritas would ultimately paint here. It’s street art, for heaven’s sake, and as such, artistic expression. Plus, public opinion is already on our side given the incident with Taylor. You see, thereisevidence that Malcolm harassed Taylor, and the fact that Veritas painted something that genuinely happened, even if he gave it an artistic interpretation, keeps it from being completely damning. Make sense?”
Liam had never been a fan of legalese, but working in construction, he’d dealt with his fair share of legalities. “So the balance starts to tip more in our favor if we state that we gave permission to Veritas.”
“Yes.” Linc folded his arms across his chest. “And Sorcha’s say-so probably wouldn’t count, although our lawyers said it might be interesting to try that approach out in an Irish court of law given there’ve been legal cases involving ghosts before.”
“I’d sell tickets to that trial if they brought on Sorcha as a star witness,” Eoghan said with a chortle. “Since I’m ninety-four, I nominate myself to say that I gave Veritas permission. I dare them to come after me, especially with public opinion behind us.”
Liam winced. He glanced at Taylor. Her brown eyes were narrowed, but she nodded, knowing what he had to do. They’d discussed the possibility before arriving. “Eoghan, that won’t be necessary. I gave Veritas permission. I shut down the system. I—”
